What's a Listening Log? Well, the idea is quite simple. It's a weekly segment that consolidates all the mini-reviews Dozens Of Donuts has given on RateYourMusic over the past week, split between the Past and Present. A straightforward grading scale has been put in place, ranging from A+ to F-, with C acting as the baseline average. There is no set amount of reviews per week, just however many I get around to reviewing. And don't expect week-of reviews. I wait one month - with at least three listens under my belt - before I rate and review an album. Enjoy!
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2020 | Jazz Rap | Listen
SCHOOLED BY A STARVED POET AND CURB-SIDE BAND
After 2018's prosaic collaboration with Elucid on Nostrum Grocers and tired Budding Ornithologists Are Weary of Tired Analogies, Milo was in need of a reinvention. Two years later and R.A.P. Ferreira has emerged from the ashes, in hopes of reestablishing an artist who was losing sight of what it means to be one. Does Purple Moonlight Pages succeed in that regard? Kind of.
It's Rory Ferreira's most comprehensive and cohesive project since So The Flies Don't Come, self-actualizing as a matured soothsayer able to twist mental knots around simple concepts just as smoothly he details the minutiae of implicit tradition long handed down. But, in terms of rapping style and intellectual braggadocio, it doesn't stray far from Milo's tried and true formula. One that soured with an overabundance of non-sequitur verbiage, a la his idols Aesop Rock and Busdriver. Purple Moonlight Pages reaches high when a lucid and logical topic permeates that incongruity, like 'Cycles,' 'Leaving Hell,' and 'Ro Talk.' The former reintroduces Kenny Segal's mood-shifted take on Trap - first seen on 'Re: Animist' - spicing matters up with Ferreira's most emotionally-tinged, conceptually-frank track since 'Monologion.' It has everything one could want in a Hip-Hop track. While this burgeoning impatience isn't found on much of the LP, other efforts like 'Dust Up' and 'An Idea Is A Work Of Art' reveal this anxiety towards expectation, allowing Ferreira to bud a level of charisma and relatability not previously seen.
Despite Ferreira's best efforts to distance himself from Milo, the best aspect of Purple Moonlight Pages has to be the production handled by The Jefferson Park Boys; Kenny Segal, Mike Parvizi, and Mr. Carmack. Permeating the LP's 52 minutes are soulful, street-bound Jazz Rap that recalls the golden age of such endeavors with naturalistic splendor. The percussion, piano, and tenuous use of synthesizer feedback ('Omens & Totems' - which has an excellent Mulholland Drive reference) give Ferreira the sophisticated backdrop to wax poetic. Old school underground groups like Hieroglyphics, Jurassic 5, and People Under The Stairs come out on sobering cuts like 'Absolutes' and 'Mythical,' while Prince Paul and Dan The Automator's team-up Handsome Boy Modeling School can be seen in the skittishly playful nonchalance of 'Noncipher' and 'Laundry.' All the while, De La Soul's Stakes Is High era sets the stage for 'Ro Talk's' thoughtful sincerity, while A Tribe Called Quest's graceful transition to Hip-Hop patriarch on We Got It From Here can be heard in the subdued dignity of 'Doldrums' and 'Golden Sardine.'
The production of Purple Moonlight Pages is fantastic throughout, a true testament to Kenny Segal's mastery of underground Hip-Hop and Ferreira's decision-making in acclimating to a tone and mood. At times, the alleyway Jazz becomes so concrete that comparisons to The Last Poets - sans provocative racism, of course - can be felt. All that being said, R.A.P. Ferreira doesn't deviate from the Milo cliches as much as I had hoped. There's plenty of forgettable duds dotted throughout the LP, including perhaps the most disappointing 'Pinball,' with Open Mike Eagle. Even though he wanted a new image on the path towards total expression, it seems as though Rory Ferreira is, and has always been, for better or worse, content with the Milo style. Anything else would be a farce.
B-
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2020 | Digital Hardcore | Listen
RABID TESTOSTERONE SET LOOSE ON THE DANCE FLOOR
I had pretty much ridden Machine Girl off, after not having enjoyed an LP since Matthew Stephenson's debut WLFGRL in 2014. U-Void Synthesizer hits differently. Granted, Digital Hardcore - like the others - is what's prominently on the menu, but there's a clear development and nuance in the sound that was previously lost amidst the bombast. Take 'Scroll Of Sorrow' with Guayaba, which incorporates campy diversions into Bubblegum Bass, Vaporwave, and Experimental Hip-Hop. Or 'Batsu Forever,' with its mid-track breakdown aimed to provide a lull in pandemonium - like a rollercoaster deadlock stop - before shooting off at 80 miles an hour for one final coup de grâce.
There are some tracks that flatline a tad in the excess, like 'On Coming' and 'Kill All Borders,' gripped with the strain of suffocation. It's too much, as we saw exceedingly on The Ugly Art. Variation is key, as U-Void Synthesizer undulates just enough to lure a listener back from taking the latter option of fight or flight. Points are dotted throughout the LP that shift focus away from the palpitating Digital Hardcore, despite its presence forever being felt. 'Suck Shit' is an excellent example, and one of U-Void's best. We can thank rappers LustSickPuppy and RAFiA who join to wreck havoc on the second half, shifting focus away from the breakneck beats and onto a hyper-aggressive form of Hardcore Hip-Hop. Speaking of which, certain tracks like 'Fully In It' and 'Devil Speak' give off a distinct Gabber vibe and draw unequivocal parallels to Death Grips' recent foray into the Electronic genre. Here, Machine Girl is essentially completing the promise set forth by 'Death Grips 2.0,' sans MC Ride of course.
U-Void Synthesizer is a strong LP that rekindles my appreciation for Machine Girl's unrelenting aesthetic. While on the surface reckless and juvenile, U-Void presents a more matured take on the intricacies and reeling philosophy of Machine Girl's music. The lyrics on the other hand. Yeah, let's just ignore those. Like one would with Screamo.
B
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Sixteen Oceans, Four Tet's tenth studio LP, might be his most personal to date. A necessary moment of respite to reflect on one's origins after twenty years in the business of crafting delicate, mind-tickling Microhouse. Sixteen Oceans finds Kieran Hebden translating this avenue of success to corporeal nostalgia in more direct ways than he had before. A quick glance at the tracklist will reveal such an idea, with titles like 'School,' 'Insect Near Piha Beach,' '1993 Band Practice,' and 'Bubbles At Overlook 25th March 2019' all specifying a moment of Four Tet's past that holds value. Before the LP transitions more into malleable Ambient, numerous tracks adhere to Four Tet's classic Microhouse mannerisms, seen most similarly on his last LP New Energy. 'Baby,' featuring Ellie Goulding's chopped up vocals, is the most engaging and uplifting, nearing the unmissable greatness of 'Daughter' with a dash of Future Garage. Elsewhere, like 'Teenage Birdsong,' 'Romantics,' and 'Love Salad,' Four Tet dignifies adolescent romance with fluttering synthesizers and majestic piano arrangements, falling short merely in terms of lack of evolution. They're gorgeous, but then again, so has been the M.O. of Four Tet's entire career.
As Sixteen Oceans evolves, memory strands seem to become less tangible, heightening the feeling of nostalgia over the nostalgia itself. Tracks stall the second half, for after the palpitating 'Insect Near Piha Beach,' which draws direct parallels to Jon Hopkins' work (see: Immunity or Singularity), nothing grabs the listener intently. 'Hi Hello' and 'ISTM' are short, sub one-minute interludes that, again, could be seen as fragments of memories - much akin to a photo-book with crucial information missing - than grand flashbacks themselves. Four Tet hasn't really delved into this tenuous style of pacing, which succeeds in heightening an aura even if the music itself isn't all that enticing. Matters stabilize towards the end however, as '4T Recordings' twists the needle into something more nocturnal and ethereal, like Burial with his drums removed. Then there's 'Mama Teaches Sanskrit,' which is the best Ambient affair here for its ability to subtly add in-the-moment Field Recordings of a family bonding over music. It's a delightful closer that, much like the bulk of Sixteen Oceans, won't fail to put the listener's mind at ease. Even if the music itself doesn't demand in ways Four Tet previously enacted.
C
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